Billiard Incident and Occasional Humour

• There is a story told about a full-sized billiard table in a very small Clubroom. As the cloth was badly worn at the baulk end, it was reversed, and, after this was done, a member entered, sat quietly smoking for a while, and then exclaimed: "How did they manage to turn the table round?" This, by T. A. Dennis, in The Nottingham Football Post, is difficult to understand:—"Inman has had cue troubles lately, and his billiards is suffering in consequence. His favourite cue having got too short, he had it lengthened at the top end, two or three inches being spliced on." Is it conceivable that an experienced and careful billiard player like Inman would continue to cut down and re-tip his cue—however great a favourite it might be—until it was two or three inches shorter than the normal length?
• "Ivor," writing in The Sporting Chronicle, says that W. J. Peall, the very skilful spot-stroke champion, never quite realized that his son possessed so remarkable an aptitude for billiards. "I can recollect his asking me some time before the war what I thought of Arthur's play. My answer was: 'Very sure and sound; above all, good in the pit.' 'Well, I can hardly bring myself to believe he has done so well as he has. I never thought him anything out of the ordinary,' was the reply."
• It will be remembered that in the early clays of George Gray's appearance in this country, George Nelson, the Yorkshire professional, was his frequent opponent, and Nelson writes humorously in The Yorkshire Sports Post of some of his experiences in this connexion. He says:— "At Southampton Gray made two breaks of over 1,200 in two consecutive hits. I thus had one stroke (from which, by the way, it was impossible to score) in three sessions. I have dictated hundreds of letters while he was scoring. On one occasion I left him playing at Manchester, still requiring over 600 for game, so that I could catch the train for Leeds and home. It was all right. Gray 'ran-out' with an unfinished break of 600 odd." In The Morning Advertiser, "Spot Ball" tells a story of what happened once in the old days when John Roberts (as is said to have been his custom) "counted the house so that the official at the pay-box should not hand in too much when the session was over." Mr. A. C. Burnett, at the time representing The Sportsman, was refereeing, and asked his friend, Mr. J. T. Hulls (now a well-known boxing judge), to sit in the press box near the roof and keep the scores. When Roberts's eye reached the press box he asked a young lady attendant to inquire what paper Mr. Hulls represented. She was told, evidently in an indistinct tone, that he was "Keeping the scores for the referee." On returning to Roberts, the young lady informed him, to his still greater mystification, that the gentleman was representing The King's Cross Referee, which, as the great player as truly as promptly remarked, was a paper that he had never before heard of.
• Have you ever met the player who doesn't know how to hold a cue, but who used to make 100 easily; or the man who knows how every shot should be played, but has never played a game?—Billiards Magazine (Chicago).
• Once I can recollect going so deeply into a "position" I had to resume on as to think out in my head a long succession of strokes. As it happened, though, I missed the very first one, a ticklish little "screw" in-off —so all my castles in the air came tumbling down.— Inman in The News of the World.
• W. S. Gilbert in "The Mikado."—
  The billiard sharp whom anyone catches, His doom is extremely hard— He's made to dwell In a dungeon cell On a spot that's always barred; And there he plays extravagant matches In fitless finger-stalls, On a cloth untrue With a twisted cue And elliptical billiard balls!
• At Thurston's, on the afternoon of November 4, play between Inman and Smith had proceeded for about fifteen minutes when, to the surprise of a crowded house, Inman addressed those present. He said that, owing to a recurrent attack of his old complaint of vertigo, he felt dizzy and unable to do himself justice. Upon this Smith suggested that a session's points might be added to each score, and Inman and himself play an exhibition game to fill up the afternoon. Inman, however, declined this proposal, and the match proceeded. At its close Smith remarked that some time ago he challenged Inman, through The Sporting Life, to a match for £250 aside, Smith to concede 2,000 start. That challenge he stood by, and as he was due to play Inman again in London in December he would, if Inman agreed, make that match for £250 aside, the winner to take the whole of the gate.
• I have heard a story—cannot say whether it be true or not—regarding the late John Roberts. He walked into a Manchester hotel, so the story goes, and sat watching a game of billiards. Two commercial travellers were playing, and one beat the other easily. Like many another cueist, this man began to boast and issue challenges. Somehow or other his gaze fell on Roberts, and, half-jokingly, he asked him to play. John did not want to play, and he said so. The traveller was not satisfied, but openly declared that Roberts was afraid to play, so the latter got up and told the audience that he would play the braggart with his umbrella. He did so, and won easily. There does not seem to be any record of what the traveller said or did!—S. N.
  [We fancy that we have seen this feat attributed also to the elder Roberts, and that in his case the locality was the billiard room in Villiers Street, Strand.—Ed., B.P]